Mrs. Migillicutty opened her window when she caught me walking into my house.
“Evening, Mack.”
“Evening, Mrs. M.”
“You look like shit.”
I started to laugh. “Well, thank you. Tell me how you really feel.”
“You know what the great thing about having me for a neighbor is?”
“What’s that?”
“I double as a bartender.”
“Is that so? I like that idea. We can call it Migillicutty’s Pub.”
“How about some of that rum I promised you? I make a mean rum and Coke.”
God, I could use a drink tonight.
I threw my keys up in the air and caught them. “Serve me up!”
Once inside, she prepared my drink at the table. The Coke fizzed as she poured it over the liquor. She slid the glass over to me.
“Thank you.”
“Are you kidding? I’m totally living vicariously through you, Mack.” She crossed her arms and leaned in. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s right would be a more appropriate question.”
“Talk.”
“Let’s see. Where to start? I’m angry at my ex for bringing a new man around my son without checking with me first. Speaking of my son, I’m pretty sure he hates me and blames me for his unhappiness. God knows what kind of false information his mother’s feeding him.”
“Anyone who sees you in action with that boy would never doubt the kind of father you are. The fact that you’re not with his mother doesn’t change that. As for this new man, be happy someone’s filling her love tank so that you don’t have to anymore.”
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Speaking of which, didn’t you have a date with Miss Frankie?”
“It was hardly a date, but yeah. It started out a little rocky, but it ended up okay. We just talked.”
“You never told me the story of how you met her. I know she was your roommate.”
“You really want to hear it?”
“Fuck, yes.”
I couldn’t help but crack up any time she said something I didn’t expect to come out of her mouth.
She looked confused. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
“So, tell me the story!”
“Okay…well, the thing with Frankie didn’t start out romantic or anything. She was—for lack of a better word—odd, even a little geeky. At least, that was my impression of her when she first moved in. But there was something really endearing about her at the same time. I guess I liked the fact that she wasn’t egotistical or intimidating like most of the other people I’d been associating with up until that point.”
“I bet a lot of people find you intimidating, Mack.”
“Maybe.” I grinned. “Anyway, I’d been surrounded by people my whole life who I felt like I had to compete with. I was brought up to find value in shallow and unimportant things. Frankie, on the other hand, never made me feel anything but comfortable in my own skin. I never felt like she was judging me. She used to have this terrible social anxiety. I used to tell her she shouldn’t give a fuck what people thought of her. Meanwhile, that was a little hypocritical because deep down, I definitely struggled with that a little, too, particularly when it came to my father. Anyway, those months of getting to know her as a friend were like a breath of fresh air that I didn’t know I needed. It was like I’d been suffocating and didn’t realize it. Frankie was sweet and caring. She’d cook for me—no one had ever cooked for me in my life unless they were getting paid to do it. But more than anything, being around her just…felt good.”
“She made you happy. It’s not always easy to understand why that happens with certain people. It’s cosmic or something.”
“Right. It’s not always logical, either. It was definitely unexpected with her.”
“So, what was the problem?”
“I was with Torrie when I met Frankie.”
Mrs. Migillicutty smacked the table. “Ah. See, now this story is getting fucking good.”
I laughed. “Frankie had basically been like one of the guys at first. But later, I began to realize that I was going out less. I’d be in work or class and thinking about how I couldn’t wait to get home. I’d think of something funny and have to stop everything I was doing to text her. Or the worst part, I’d be visiting Torrie in D.C. and counting the minutes until I could catch my Sunday night flight back to Boston. But even still, I was in denial for a very long time. I’d never had feelings for someone that didn’t start out as pure physical attraction. With Frankie, it was the opposite. I was extremely attracted to her brain, to her heart, to just being with her, to how she made me feel. Then over time, I’d started to look at her differently. I’m not even sure exactly when it changed, but my admiration for her definitely extended to the physical. I’d notice the way she bit her lip, and I’d find myself wishing I could be the one biting it. I’d count the tiny freckles over her nose and wish I could trace a line over them with my tongue. I’d notice when her nipples were peeking through her shirt…”